


Beloved of Pride

by madi_solo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Beauty & the Beast AU, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madi_solo/pseuds/madi_solo
Summary: Clan Lavellan is forced to flee the Free Marches, and they seek a new home in the Dales, but when circumstances compel them to make a perilous journey through the Frostback Mountains, an unforeseen discovery will alter the course of their journey forever.





	1. Chapter 1

_The world was dark and strange. Sickly green light glowed between the twisted trunks that were closing in on either side of her. She was running but could not remember why. There was no path before her feet, only an infinite void. Thus, the endless rows of skeleton trees directed her frantic and stumbling steps. She tried to catch her breath, but an immovable weight sat upon her chest, crushing the air from her lungs._

_Eerie whispers emerged from the shadows, hissing and spitting and gnashing their teeth as their voices grew louder. She covered her ears when they began to shriek, resisting the temptation to shut her eyes. If she could just get to that hill…_

_Wait—there was no hill a moment ago._

_Skidding to a halt, she shielded her face with her hand as the earth started to groan. The hill was right in front of her! Jutting into the thundering sky, stones cascaded down its sides. She was falling—no—rising. Everything was upside down._

_Someone was there, just out of reach. His head was bowed, his back stooped by burden. She wanted to help him. She knew she could! If only…_

_There was a blinding flash as her straining fingers reached out to touch him, a deafening crash ringing in her ears as she was flung backwards._

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“Guin!”

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Eyes flying open, she bolted upright. The frightened features of a young elvhen boy gazed back at her. Grimacing, Guindaryn rubbed the back of her head, a quick glance around informing her that she had rolled out of her bunk and onto the floor of the lower deck, which was rocking violently. The walls shuddered, lanterns creaking and swinging dangerously on their hinges.

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“What’s going on?” she inquired as she attempted to reorient herself.

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“A storm,” the boy replied. “A really bad one. It came out of nowhere! Keeper Deshanna said to wake you at once!”

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Only then did she realize that every other bunk was empty. Instinctively, Guindaryn reached for her staff and snatched it from where it had fallen. By the time she scrambled to her feet, the boy was already turning and heading for the stairs.

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“Wait!” she exclaimed, catching him by the shoulder. “Stay here, Nehn, where it’s safe. Let us handle this. I’ll come and find you as soon as it’s over.”

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Moving past him, Guindaryn took the steps two at a time and soon emerged onto the upper deck. A blast of torrential rain and howling wind hit her like a slap across the face, thunder rolling over the sea and reverberating inside her bones. The crew were racing to and fro, desperately trying to keep the ship afloat while their captain manned the helm.

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“Guin!”

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She turned, blinking and swiping at her eyes as she struggled to see through the deluge. “Keeper!”

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“Guin, you must get everyone into the boats! We do not have much time.” Keeper Deshanna’s hands were gripping her shoulders so tightly that it hurt.

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“What are you talking about? Why can’t we—?”

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“Gerard has told me,” the Keeper interrupted firmly. “There is nothing we can do. It is only a matter of time before we sink. Find the others. Get them to the boats.”

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“What about you?” Guindaryn questioned with wide eyes.

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“I will protect the crew and their captain as long as I can. Then I will join you when time has run out.” Her First appeared to be unconvinced, and Deshanna grasped her arm in a gesture of reassurance. “I swear it. Now go!”

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There was a dazzling burst of light as the Keeper released her, followed by an ear-splitting crack. The ship groaned as one whose limb has been suddenly severed, its main-mast collapsing as the lightning struck. Like an uprooted tree, the towering pillar of wood broke across the bow, flames springing up from its scorched base. Its sails snagged upon those of the fore-mast and tore them down. Cries of anguish rang out, and Guin immediately raced toward them.

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Many of the crew had been crushed and crippled. Some were dead. But others reached for her as she came to them. Two human men were pinned beneath a massive slab of wood that had splintered off from the main-mast, and she swiftly surveyed the situation.

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“Lie still,” she commanded in a voice that was gentle but firm, and loud enough to be heard above the storm.

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Standing back, Guindaryn closed her eyes and drew upon the endless wellspring of the Fade. Turquoise and viridian sparks flickered around her fingers before suddenly flaring into flames that hummed and danced as she raised her arms to the heavens. In accordance with her movements, the debris was lifted from their bodies, and the men crawled to safety.

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Releasing her hold, Guin watched as the wood fell and hit the deck with a resounding crash. The smaller man clambered to his feet, sweeping several locks of straw-like hair back from his wet forehead.

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“T-thank you,” he stammered. “Nearly claimed us, that one did…”

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A fleeting smile crossed her features, but a sudden commotion to her left caused her to frown and turn. Two elves were making their way to the boats, one much taller than the other. His long golden hair billowed behind him in the harsh wind, the arm of his female companion thrown over his broad shoulders as she limped along beside him.

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“Haleira!” Guindaryn cried, racing toward them. “What happened?”

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“Don’t look so worried, Guin,” the woman quipped, forcing a smile. “At least the leg’s still in one piece.”

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It was, Guindaryn noted, and torn fabric had been fastened securely around the nasty wound that was carved into her left thigh, but dark crimson stains continued to seep through. “Where is Dhaveir?”

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“He went back for Elgadir,” said Haleira, casting a concerned glance over her shoulder.

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“I’ll find him,” Guin assured her.

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“No.”

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Glancing up into the steely eyes of the man who was keeping Haleira on her feet, Guindaryn’s gaze narrowed. “What?”

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“I will go,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone that left no room for debate.

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“Aenorean, I can—”

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The objection died on her lips, for he had already released Haleira and disappeared into the rain and smoke. With a frustrated sigh, Guin lifted her friend’s arm around her shoulders and helped her to the boats, which were fastened to the starboard side of the ship. At least, there should have been boats. To her dismay, she realized that instead of three, only one boat remained. The other two had apparently been wrenched free by the wild tossing of the sea and had vanished into the black unfathomable depths below.

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“Well, that’s not good,” Haleira remarked flatly.

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Seeing the severed ropes snapping uselessly in the wind, Guindaryn gritted her teeth and moved to the one boat that was left. As she did, Haleira let go of her and shifted her grip to the railing.

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“I can untie it, but we must wait for the others,” said Guin, observing the intricate knots that held the boat in place. Still, it swung to and fro, beating against the hull.

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“Look!” Haleira cried. “Here they come!”

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She pointed, and Guindaryn followed her gaze. Three figures were emerging from thick gray haze, all of whom appeared to be remarkably uninjured. Aenorean came first, followed by Dhaveir and Elgadir, the clan’s elder. He clutched to his chest as many scrolls as he could carry, while Dhaveir and Aenorean carried their weapons and several packs of supplies on their backs.

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“Keeper Deshanna—” Guin inquired anxiously as they reached her, “did you see her?”

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Breathless, Dhaveir shook his head, and Elgadir turned back, his wrinkled brow furrowing. Just then, a fourth silhouette walked out of the smoke. Utterly drenched from head to toe, the Keeper’s features were grim and taut, her staff still grasped securely in her right hand.

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“We must go now,” she said, “or it will be too late.”

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Guin frowned. “What about Gerard? And the crew?”

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“A single boat remains, with just enough room to bear our clan safely to shore. Gerard knows this. Do not let his sacrifice, and the sacrifices of his men, be in vain.”

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Guindaryn bowed her head, her chest constricting painfully as Aenorean moved to the boat and began lowering it into the water. These merchants had risked everything to bear Clan Lavellan safely away from the Free Marches, and now, their feet would never reach the shore.

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Dhaveir was the first to slide down the rope and into the precariously rocking boat. Haleira followed closely behind him, biting her tongue to prevent an anguished cry from escaping her throat. Elgadir came next, then the Keeper.

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When all of them had gone, Aenorean turned to her expectantly. “Come, Guin.”

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With great reluctance, she started to move toward the rope, but a sudden and unexpected thought stopped her in her tracks. “Nehn,” she murmured. Fear gripped her heart, launching her into frantic flight as she sprinted back toward the stairs.

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“Guin!” Aenorean called, but she did not heed him.

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Water poured into her eyes, her tunic clinging to her saturated skin as she attempted to wave away the billowing smoke. But it was no use. Lungs burning and coughs wracking her body, she struggled to concentrate. Reaching out a hand, Guindaryn held her breath and closed her eyes. Beyond the chaos, there was peace. Beyond her weakness, there was power. Beyond the Veil, there was the Fade.

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As if removing an irksome obstacle from her path, she made a sweeping motion with her arm, a large, circular rune stamped upon the ground beneath her feet. A strange, ethereal echo rang in her ears, and when it died away, the rune, too, evanesced. Left in its wake were shimmering streams of light that continuously orbited around her, their blue-tinged glow flickering across her determined features as she advanced toward the closed door that led to the lower deck.

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The barrier she had conjured shielded her from both fire and water, and Guindaryn’s fingers soon gripped the slippery handle. She pulled hard, but the door did not budge. It was jammed. She pounded her fists against it, thrust her shoulder into it, to no avail. Finally, she brought her left hand up in front of her face and clenched it into a fist, hardening her will until it was like iron. Then, she expelled it in a powerful blast of green energy that radiated outward.

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The door flew off its hinges and crashed inward, and Guin stepped over its splintered remains as she descended the stairs. Below, the air was dank and the light dim. Most of the lanterns had gone dark, causing her to squint and run her fingers along the walls as she advanced.

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“Nehn? Nehn, can you hear me? We have to go now! The ship is sinking! We can’t stay here!”

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No answer came, but as she rounded the corner, Guindaryn saw the boy huddled on the floor in front of the farthest bunk, a single lantern still burning. His knees were hugged to his chest, his face buried in them. All she could see was his head full of fiery red hair gleaming like copper in the warm light.

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“Nehn, come with me,” she implored, advancing with her hand outstretched. “We haven’t got much time now.”

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Slowly, he looked up, his freckled cheeks streaked with tears. His frightened gaze shifted to her hand, then back to her face. “All right,” he murmured.

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His smaller fingers slipped into hers, and Guin pulled him to his feet. The spirits that guarded her now protected him as well, and they passed through the smoldering wreckage unharmed.

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Aenorean’s features were twisted with frustration and anger, but when he saw the child returning with her, they softened, and he motioned with his hand. “Come! Quickly!”

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Guindaryn ushered the boy ahead of her, allowing him to climb down the rope first. Then, she followed him, fingers burning as she clutched it tight. When her feet struck the rocking floor of the boat, she swayed unsteadily, but Keeper Deshanna gripped her arm until she regained her balance.

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Aenorean was the last to abandon the sinking ship, and when he did, he severed the cord that bound them to it. As they rowed away under a black sky, Guin could not tear her eyes from the looming silhouette of the vessel as the sea threatened to swallow it whole. It was drowning slowly, silently, the screams of its passengers having gone still long ago. They had accepted their fate.

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“Falon’Din enasal enaste,” murmured the Keeper, solemnly bowing her head.

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More death. More loss. Guindaryn had seen enough of it already, for members of her own clan had been slain by human hands. She had hated them for what they did, despised them for their betrayal, but now, human men and women had given their lives to save them. Neither she nor her clan would have survived long if not for their noble sacrifice.

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Feeling something shift against her right shoulder, Guin glanced down and saw that Nehn had rested his head there. His eyes were still open, staring blankly into the darkness, remembering just as she was. Her magic had vanished, leaving them cold and shivering. But they were not alone. Together, Clan Lavellan had made it this far, and they would go farther still.

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Somewhere, Guindaryn knew, just out of sight, was the shore. Somewhere deep within the borders of Orlais, were the Dales. If only they could reach the lands where their people once walked, the lands the Dalish once called home. Perhaps there, they could at last find peace.

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	2. Chapter 2

Waves crashed upon the rocky shore, tugging at Guindaryn’s legs as she helped haul the boat up the bank. Gravel crunched beneath her partially bare feet, a forbidding wind whipping through her white hair. The dawn was cold and gray, a blanket of mist hovering over the waters of the Waking Sea. At last, they had reached land, and she could not quite believe that she was taking her first steps on Orlesian soil.

“Unless I am mistaken, we have arrived somewhere between Jader and Halamshiral,” said Aenorean, his keen gaze sweeping over the hills that rolled southward for many leagues until they collided with the Frostback Mountains, whose snowcapped peaks resisted the warmth of the rising sun.

“Yes,” the Keeper agreed as she drew alongside him. “From here, we will continue our journey south and travel along the western border of the Frostbacks until we reach the heart of the Dales.”

“A good plan—in theory,” remarked Elgadir. “But word reached you of the wars that rage across these lands long before we set sail. Mages and templars slaughter each other in droves. Freemen and chevaliers bathe the earth in the blood of their own kin. The civil war is tearing Orlais apart. Finding a new home will be no simple task.”

“Which is why we will remain close to the mountains, as we discussed,” Deshanna insisted, her viridian eyes narrowing with stubborn determination. “Away from the worst of the fighting.”

The elder merely lowered his head and closed his eyes, and the Keeper turned from him. Ever since the persecution of their clan had begun under Duke Antoine of Wycome, strife had spread amongst its members like a disease. None of them had agreed on which course of action was best, so they had remained in the Free Marches, trading with the humans as they always had. Only when disaster struck had Keeper Deshanna finally declared that it was time for them to depart. But Elgadir had defied her to the last, until he finally realized that there was no chance of changing her mind.

Hearing a frustrated groan behind her, Guin glanced over her shoulder and saw Haleira hobbling toward them, arm slung over Dhaveir’s shoulders. Her once precise and graceful movements had become clumsy and feeble, her features pale and drawn.

“Haleira cannot climb in her current state,” he protested. “The snow is deep, as is her wound. Is there nothing more you can do for her?”

“I can, and I will,” she shot back, glaring fiercely. “Do not speak on my behalf, brother.”

The Keeper looked back at them, her brow furrowing apologetically. “Ir abelas, Dhaveir. I have done all I can. The bleeding has stopped, but I cannot mend rent flesh. It must be allowed to heal on its own time.”

He sighed and hung his head, expressing the same weariness they all felt gnawing at them. It was the ache in their bones. The weight upon their backs. The heaviness of their footfalls.

“If Dhaveir needs to rest, I will take his place.”

At once, all of them turned and looked down at Nehn, whose persistent cheer in the face of their plight warmed their frozen hearts.

First, Dhaveir frowned, but then his lips slowly curved into a smile. “Very well, Nehn. I would welcome a reprieve.”

As Haleira draped her arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders, the rest of them hoisted their packs and began to walk.

Guindaryn felt some measure of relief at having escaped Duke Antoine and the army of thugs at his disposal, and yet, her gaze often drifted to the glaring trail they left in their wake. Trampled grass. Footprints in the dirt. Dhaveir tread lightly, for he was a hunter trained to escape even the notice of beasts, but Aenorean more than made up for his silence with his heavy footfalls and clinking mail.

She rolled her eyes as he strode proudly alongside the Keeper, chin held aloft. Would it kill him to at least try to be discreet? They were in a foreign land now, and though they had escaped the danger that had plagued them back home, an unknown world with new perils lay before them. The fires of war were raging across Thedas, and Guin feared that they would not find the Dales as welcoming as they had hoped.

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_Crystalline water glided over smooth stones and swirled around tangled moss, spilling into the pool where she soaked her feet. It bubbled and splashed, gently lapping against the grassy bank. The evening air was clear and cool, and she curled her fingers against the soft turf, eyes closed. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful._

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_Why did she feel uneasy?_

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_Her spirit had become strangely empty, all sense of joy or contentment stripped from her. Hand clutched to her chest, Guindaryn sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled backwards, snatching her legs from the water. Walls of impenetrable rock were closing in around her. She could not get out. She was trapped here—alone. Abandoned._

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_The earth began to quake, fear swelling inside her until she felt as if she might burst. Desperately, Guin clawed her way forward on her hands and knees, the ground trembling so violently that she could not get a firm grip. First, she had fled from it, but now the pool was her only hope of escape._

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_Arm outstretched, she reached for its still surface. Her jaw slammed against the splitting soil, and she yelped. Gritting her teeth, Guindaryn dragged herself the last remaining feet and then plunged headfirst into the water._

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_Silence engulfed her. She tumbled end over end, out of control, completely submerged. Her limbs flailed helplessly, her breath still caught inside her chest. Suddenly, her momentum came to a screeching halt. She crashed into something cold and wet, something that gave way beneath her. Coughing and spluttering, Guin pressed her hands against the powdery substance and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Only then did she realize that she was half-buried in a blanket of snow that threatened to swallow her entirely._

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_Startled, she blinked, tiny flakes falling from her lashes. There was a field of white as far as her eyes could see, rising steadily amidst a maze of jagged peaks that loomed ominously above her, silhouetted against a starless sky. Guindaryn shivered, tugging her scarlet cloak more tightly about her shoulders as she struggled to her feet._

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_A spine-chilling howl shattered the silence, and she froze. Her heart beat faster, her rapid breaths puffing small clouds into the air. She spun in every direction, seeing nothing but the dark outlines of trees. A fierce wind hissed through their needled limbs, sweeping down the mountainside and tossing her hair. Another shiver ran through her, and Guin swallowed. Then she started to climb._

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_Frantically, she trudged through the snow, until each intake of breath seared her throat and burned all the way down to her lungs. Her legs grew heavy, and a dull ache began to spread throughout her entire body. She collapsed frequently, her progression slowing with each step she forced herself to take._

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_Gasping for air, Guindaryn stopped. She doubled over, hands on her knees, chest heaving. She was not going to make it. It was too far. She was going to die out here._

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_A deep growl rumbled behind her. She jolted upright, then whirled, cloak flying. A monstrous form towered over her, teeth flashing in the darkness—about to devour her._

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She was wakened by the sound of her own cry. Heart pounding in her ears, Guin sat up, breathing hard. Her eyes darted left and right, skimming over the motionless forms lying in the snow. All of them encircled the remains of a small fire, now extinguished by frost. Their chests rose and fell steadily—peacefully. All was well. It was just a dream.

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With a weary sigh of relief, she lowered her face into her hands and tried to calm herself. All of it had seemed so real. But alas, it was only a trick of the Fade. Guindaryn consciously slowed her breathing as she crawled out from beneath her blanket and stood. Shivering and rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself, she crept past the sleeping members of her clan and left their modest campsite behind.

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Nearly a week had passed since their arrival on the shores of Orlais, and now, they were in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains. Clusters of evergreen trees crowned the crest of the hill where they had decided to settle for the night, providing shelter from prying eyes, but their towering figures only served as reminders of the nightmare she had just endured.

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Her knee-length purple tunic, pants, and leg wraps did little to shield her from the penetrating cold, and she longed for her cloak or her heavier robe, both of which had been left behind in the chaos of their escape from the sinking merchant ship. All Guin had now was the clothes upon her back, what few food and water rations remained, and her family.

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As she came to the fringes of the firs, where the hill began its rapid descent, she stopped and surveyed the land that rolled out below her like a pristine carpet, white and unblemished in the light of the moon. Beyond those sloping fields, many leagues northward, the sea glittered like glass, splendid and serene.

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Family…

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Reaching up, she slipped her fingers beneath the thick black scarf that was wrapped snugly around her neck, and they closed around something smooth, something solid. A stone. A precious gem that was always there, dangling from a silver chain.

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“Something troubles you, da’len?”

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With a startled gasp, Guindaryn spun to see Deshanna standing quietly behind her. “Keeper! I…I did not realize you were there.”

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Smiling sadly, Deshanna advanced to the side of her First, staff in hand. “I heard your cry as you slept.”

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Guin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she bowed her head. “I…had another unpleasant dream.”

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“Another?”

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“Yes, it…” She trailed off uncertainly, not knowing how to explain. “The first came the night of the storm. It was so real, more vivid than ever before. It’s like I’m awake, like I’m there. I’m always hunting, or being hunted…”

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“It is the Fade,” Deshanna said simply. “It reveals ancient truths and hidden secrets whilst we explore it in our dreams, but it also tells lies and deceives us. You must be cautious, da’len, as I have always taught you. Evil spirits can take many guises.”

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“I know, Keeper.”

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Deshanna placed a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have always been wise beyond your years, Guindaryn. What lessons lie before you now, I can only guess. But I have no doubt that you will rise to meet those challenges. After all, you did have a highly insightful and skillful mentor.”

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She was smirking, a playful twinkle in her eye, but Guin frowned. “You’re talking as if you have nothing left to teach me.”

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“I have taught you everything I know.”

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“That’s not true,” she objected kindly, shaking her head. “About magic? Maybe. But I am still learning from you. Without your leadership, we would not be here. Clan Lavellan would still be in the Free Marches.”

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“Whether or not that decision was a wise one remains to be seen,” the Keeper replied, her expression becoming grave as she turned away from the snow-kissed hills. “Come, da’len. We should return to the others.”

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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter is here at last! Thank you so much to everyone who has given me such wonderful feedback so far. Your support is what's keeping the story going!

Their supplies were running low. Dhaveir had attempted to hunt alone, but it had not gone well. The terrain was unfamiliar and unforgiving, the snow so deep that it was becoming unnavigable. Without Haleira, it was like he was hunting blind. They were a team. Two halves of a whole. And one of them was incapacitated.

“I will go,” Aenorean declared when Dhaveir returned from his third failed hunt. 

“You?” the rogue scoffed. “You have stalked no prey since your youth—save one.” 

He directed a meaningful glance in Guindaryn’s direction, causing her to narrow her eyes. 

Aenorean’s gaze flicked briefly over his armored shoulder before returning to Dhaveir. “Clearly, your efforts have proved unsuccessful. I think it is time for another to make the attempt.” 

“By all means,” the archer replied, spreading his arms wide, “go ahead. Perhaps this chase will not end in your failure. But I must confess, the odds are indeed against you.” 

A fierce growl issued from Aenorean’s throat. He closed the distance between them in an instant, snatching Dhaveir by the collar of his tunic and lifting him off his feet. 

“Stop!” Guin snapped. “That’s enough! Both of you!” 

Latching onto the warrior’s muscular right arm, she pulled with all her might as Dhaveir fought to free himself. His legs kicked, his eyes wide. With a strangled gasp, he dropped into the snow, and she released her hold on Aenorean. Anger boiled inside her. Her breaths came short and hot despite the cold, fists clenched at her sides. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves. What do we have in this cursed wilderness if not each other?” 

“Unity will not save us,” Aenorean spat. “Fellowship will not save us. What good did it do us before? The shems slaughtered our kin like animals!” 

Guindaryn opened her mouth to reply but promptly shut it again when she heard a choked sob behind her. Turning, she saw Nehn flee into the maze of surrounding trees. 

“I’ll bring him back,” she offered quickly, glancing at the Keeper as she took off in pursuit of him. 

Her swift feet hardly touched the frozen earth, her steps so light that they left little trace. Eyes darting left and right, Guin saw nothing but snow-covered limbs that twisted and twined in a tangled mass. The boy had vanished. 

“Nehn!” she called, voice rising in desperation. “Nehn, where are you?” 

No answer. Her calls echoed into silence. 

The world was bathed in an eerie glow as the sun set behind a wall of gray clouds. The sky burned pink, casting its light upon the trees and the blanket of snow where Guindaryn stood buried up to her ankles. Long, dark shadows crawled out from beneath the firs’ roots, creeping along the ground and sending a chill down her spine. She shivered, memories of her nightmare threatening to surface. 

Stubbornly, she pressed on, refusing to give in to her fear. She had to find Nehn before he became lost, or worse. Her bare toes were sinking deep now, and it required great effort for Guin to lift them back out again. The steady crunch of each step was all she heard now. Not even the slightest breeze stirred the mountain air. 

She was traveling down a steadily descending slope, committing each turn she made to memory so that she could find her way back to the rest of the clan once she located Nehn. Night was falling quickly, the shadows lengthening, and she knew that she did not have much time. 

“Nehn! N—” 

Guindaryn stopped in her tracks. Nearly thirty paces ahead, she saw him. His back was pressed to a trunk that was twice his width, his blue eyes wide. Just beyond him, there stood a man in a full suit of armor. On his breastplate was a sword whose blade was extended toward the heavens, a flame surrounding it. 

Her heart plummeted. A templar. Worse—a templar who was looking right at her. Frozen to the spot, Guin dare not move. She knew that it was illogical, but somehow, she hoped that if she remained perfectly still, he might forget that she was there. 

If only she had been so lucky. Instead, the templar’s hand flew to his weapon, drawing his steel blade from its sheath. 

“Wait!” she cried, extending a placating hand even as she grabbed her staff with the other. “I mean you no harm!” 

It was too late. He snarled viciously, charging toward her, and Guindaryn glimpsed a strange flash of red light near his chest. Stepping back, she focused her gaze. There was a chain around his neck, a fiery crystal dangling from it. Her eyes narrowed in recognition—red lyrium. She had seen it before, back in Wycome. But what was it doing here? 

Clenching her left hand into a fist, Guin made a swift, forceful gesture, as if she were uppercutting her opponent’s jaw. Immediately, large chunks of ice jutted out of the ground and encased the templar in a frozen prison. His sword remained as it was, raised high above his head, and his mouth hung oddly agape, unable to close. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nehn emerged from his hiding place, his freckled cheeks still stained with tears. “That was a close one. Thank you for saving me, Guin. If you hadn’t come, I…probably would’ve been done for.” 

She did not know whether she wanted to scold him or hug him. A moment later, however, she realized that she would have time for neither. The commotion had been heard elsewhere, and now there were other shapes moving amongst the trees. 

“Run,” Guindaryn murmured, giving Nehn’s shoulder a light push. 

“What about you?” he questioned, refusing to leave her side. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” she insisted. “Now go!” 

When he still did not move, she shoved him more insistently, and he stumbled forward. Breaking into a hesitant run, Nehn retreated back the way they had come, often glancing anxiously over his shoulder. 

Peering into the darkness, Guin discerned many strange shapes. Stooped creatures with sunken faces and sickly features. Jagged red spikes protruding from their backs and limbs. All of them were templars once, but no longer. Now they were corrupted and consumed, slaves to the substance they craved. 

And there were far too many of them for her to face alone. 

Thrusting both arms high above her head, Guindaryn erected a towering wall of ice between her and them, and she could only hope that it would delay them long enough to allow for her and Nehn’s escape. She turned and propelled herself through the heavy snow, each movement a desperate lunge forward. It was an endless cycle of rising and sinking, and soon, her lungs and limbs burned. Breathing hard, she caught up to Nehn, whose feet were starting to drag. 

“Come on!” Guin urged, pressing her left hand into his back and driving him on. 

There was a tremendous crash behind them, and she stopped. Spinning around, she saw that a great behemoth had destroyed the barrier with its abnormally large, mace-like arm. Smaller, shadowy forms were now climbing after them, moving at a frighteningly swift pace, and Guindaryn’s heart pounded harder. 

“Go!” she cried. 

Nehn clawed his way forward in the darkness, and she struggled along just behind him. Guin had already acknowledged the fact that the templars might claim her, but they would not lay a finger on the boy. She would die first. 

Whoosh! 

An arrow zipped past her ear, and she dropped into the snow just before another flew over her head. Forty paces ahead, farther up the slope, two archers had emerged from the thickly gathered trees. Glowing red energy danced around their pallid faces, singing an eerie song that drifted down the hill toward them. 

They could no longer return to their clan—not by this path. 

Nehn made a sharp turn to the east, desperate to escape the monsters that now pursued them from two directions. Following him, Guindaryn anxiously glanced over her shoulder as the templars fitted more arrows to their strings. She still gripped her staff in her right hand, and she swept it outward, hearing that strange ringing in her ears once again as she and Nehn were both shielded by barriers. 

Barriers that were raised not a moment too soon. An arrow clanged off of Nehn’s back, green energy rippling in the place where it had struck. The boy gasped and looked back as he ran, but he was unharmed, having felt nothing but an uncomfortable prod in the small of his back. Just as he turned to face forward once more, however, something creaked far beneath his feet, beneath the snow. Guin heard it—a deep groaning. 

Suddenly, a gaping hole opened in the earth. There was a loud crash. Snow poured in. Darkness swallowed them. The steadily rising pile of white cushioned her fall, and she landed with a dull crunch as it gave way beneath her. Spluttering, she lifted her face out of the powdery stuff and blinked, trying to orient herself. 

She was in a ruined hall scattered with rubble. Splintered wood and shattered stone. To her right, however, was a graven image that remained perfectly intact. Its vacant eyes stared silently into her own, a stab of fear piercing her heart. The Dread Wolf! 

The likeness of Fen’Harel shone amidst the penetrating blackness, illuminated by a strange sapphire glow. He lay with his head held proudly aloft, ears pointed forward. Whether he waited as a hunter for his prey or as a watchful guardian, Guindaryn did not know. 

As a frigid wind tossed her hair and then rustled along the stone floor, her gaze followed the flakes of snow that were swept up in a leftward spiral. Rising and falling, circling each other in perpetual chase, they finally came to rest at the foot of a large mirror—the mirror that was filling the entire chamber with its unearthly light. 

An eluvian. 

A commotion somewhere above her caused Guin to clamber up onto her hands and knees and squint upwards. The templars had caught up with them and were now gathering around the hole where she and Nehn had fallen in. 

Nehn! 

Eyes darting to her left, she saw him sitting up and rubbing his head with a grimace, but he appeared to be unharmed. 

“They’re coming,” she gasped breathlessly, scrambling to her feet. “Go! Into the mirror!” 

“What?” the boy exclaimed incredulously. 

“ _Now!_ ” she ordered, leaving no room for debate. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he turned and raced toward the shimmering glass. Guindaryn hurried after him, hearing the clanging of armor and weapons and rasping breaths as their pursuers dropped down behind them. With a flying leap, the boy suddenly disappeared through the rippling field of mysterious energy, and she skidded to a halt. Her brow creased, and she looked back, but a mere glimpse of the corrupted shells making their way toward her was enough to drive her forward. 

Inhaling a sharp, anxious breath, Guin ran into the eluvian, having not the slightest idea of what awaited her on the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos! It really does encourage me to keep this story going:)

She flew through open air, limbs flailing wildly, and an instant later, her feet scraped against solid stone. Having no control over her momentum, she lost her balance and fell forward onto her hands and knees. Guindaryn gasped for breath, pressing her fingers to her ribs and noting the strange tingling sensation that had spread throughout her entire body.

“It closed,” said a quiet voice. 

Startled, she glanced up and saw Nehn standing over her. He pointed at the mirror, and her brow furrowed in confusion as she cast a glance over her shoulder. The rippling blue surface had stilled and faded to a dull red. Dark and lifeless, it loomed between two lancet windows, where pale moonlight filtered in and cast diamond-shaped shadows upon the scarlet rug where she knelt. 

“Then we won’t be followed,” Guin realized with a sigh of relief. 

Climbing slowly to her feet and dusting some of the snow off of her tunic, her gaze wandered around the dark room. Unnameable objects concealed by white sheets stood near the walls, buried in dust and silent as ghosts. Candles burning in the corners flickered over their heavily draping folds, and she swiftly averted her eyes when she started seeing faces in them. There were benches covered in cobwebs and discarded planks of wood leaning against the stone. Nothing looked as if it had been disturbed for quite some time. 

On the far side of the room was a single door that stood slightly ajar, and Guindaryn’s head tilted with curiosity. She took one cautious step toward it, then another. “I wonder where this leads?” 

Nehn followed closely behind her, his brows tightly knit with concern. “Are we even in Orlais anymore?” 

“There’s only one way to find out.” 

Nearing the door, she reached out a hand to push it open. 

“Hello there!” 

With a yelp of surprise, Guin sprang back and nearly caused Nehn to topple over. Her eyes darted to the floor, where the unexpected voice had come from, and she witnessed a most unusual sight. A candelabra with two arms and a face was smiling up at her. Was she losing her mind? 

“Nehn, tell me that you didn’t just hear—” 

“I did,” he affirmed with wide eyes. 

“Oh come on!” exclaimed the golden candlestick, gesturing widely with its flaming arms. “Use your imagination! In a world like this one, is it really so farfetched?” 

The two elves continued to stare, open-mouthed and utterly speechless. Heaving an exasperated sigh, the candelabra shifted his gaze from them to the eluvian. 

“No one’s come out of that mirror since—well, not since I can remember. Where did you come from anyway?” The two of them exchanged a glance, saying nothing, and the candle waved his arms dismissively. 

“Ah, never mind that. You both look like you just stepped out of a blizzard. Follow me! There’s a nice fire in the room just a few doors down.” 

Without waiting for a reply, the candlestick turned and hopped away, clinking lightly on the stone as he went. Nehn quirked an eyebrow and looked up at Guindaryn, who shrugged in response. Uncertainly, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the torch-lit darkness that lay beyond. 

She was immediately met by a chilling wind that caused her to shiver as it swept beneath the overhang where they stood. Rectangular columns and broad arches lined the sheltered paths that surrounded a large courtyard—no, a garden. But instead of a green thriving wealth of vegetation, it was gray and drooping and choked with thorns that cast ominous shadows upon the barren ground. 

When Guindaryn lifted her gaze beyond the lifeless flora, however, she saw a field of stars that glimmered like jewels against a black sky. Somewhere out there, far beyond this place, she knew that Clan Lavellan was awaiting their return. 

“I’m Varric, by the way,” the candelabra was saying cheerfully as he led them past several closed doors. “Varric Tethras. Forgive my manners. It’s…been a while since we’ve had any guests.” 

“We?” she prodded. 

He chuckled. “What, did you think that it was just me living all by my lonesome in an empty castle?” 

Guin stopped in her tracks. “A castle?” 

He slowed and glanced back at her with a self-satisfied smile. “Yeah. Welcome to Skyhold, uh…?” 

Trailing off, Varric tilted his golden head inquisitively, and she swallowed. “My name is Guindaryn. This is Nehn.” 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you. I imagine that you have quite the tale to tell. Skyhold isn’t exactly on the way to Val Royeaux, if you catch my meaning.” 

Grunting, he paused to push open one door, and then another. He was quite out of breath by the end of it, and she felt an unexpected stirring of pity. Passing through the entryway, they came into a grand hall, the likes of which she had never seen before. Guin’s lips parted in amazement, her violet eyes wide as she struggled to take everything in at once. 

The ceiling was so high that she could not see the end of it, for it was shrouded in shadow. There were long wooden tables lined with chairs, and towering obsidian sculptures loomed against both walls. A halla she saw, and an owl. A bear there was also, and at the end of the two rows, a dragon and a wolf each stood directly across from the other, their fierce gazes locked. Torchlight flickered across their bared fangs and unfurled wings, larger flames burning in iron fire pits that were situated atop circular stone bases. These stood as high as Guindaryn’s waist as she passed between them. 

At the far end of the hall, three pairs of stained glass windows rose behind a vacant platform that was situated at the top of three small flights of wide stairs. A lush green carpet spanned the length of the steps, a glittering chandelier hanging above them. She suddenly got the distinct impression that something should be there, occupying that platform, but she could not decide what. 

Unable to tear her gaze away from the beauty of the moonlit panes, she almost did not notice when the candelabra made an abrupt left turn just before they reached the stairs and entered through two more doors. Quite out of breath now, he led them into a much smaller but still spacious room where a warm fire burned in the hearth. 

“Varric! How many times have I—? Oh!” 

Startled, Guin stopped and surveyed her surroundings, trying to locate the shrill female voice that had an accent she did not recognize. Finally, she settled on a large desk in the far right corner that was stacked with inked parchment and bathed in silver light. An ornate clock stood amidst the perfectly organized papers, but a quill had fallen from her golden hand and spoiled the letter she had been working on. 

“A girl!” she exclaimed, her polished face brightening. 

“Uh, yes,” Guindaryn replied with a raised eyebrow. “Last time I checked.” 

“Oh, this is wonderful!” she cried, leaping first from her desk to the chair, and then to the floor. “Simply wonderful! I must gather all of the kitchen hands at once! This calls for a feast—a celebration!” 

“Whoa, slow down, ambassador!” said Varric. “You might want to introduce yourself before you start throwing a party for our guests here.” 

Eyes widening, her fingerless hand flew to her mouth. “Of course!” she gasped, appalled. “Where are my manners? I am Josephine Montilyet, ambassador for the master of this castle. It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance.” 

She curtsied—well, a much as a clock can curtsy, and Guin awkwardly inclined her head in response. “Andaran atish’an, Ambassador Montilyet. I am Guindaryn Lavellan, and this is Nehn, a fellow member of my clan.” 

“Dalish then,” Varric remarked smugly. “I knew it.” 

“Please, have a seat and warm yourselves by the fire,” Josephine urged, her gear-like eyes sparkling behind the glass clock face. “I will return shortly!” 

Once she had clunked out of the room as briskly as she could manage, Varric gestured dismissively with his flaming candle-hands. “Don’t mind Ruffles. She can be a bit…overwhelming when she gets excited.” 

There were two straight-backed armchairs situated on a blue elliptical rug in front of the hearth, and Guin hesitantly lowered herself into one of them. With far less hesitation, Nehn sank into the other, his lips curving into a small smile. Never had they been treated so courteously by anyone outside of their clan. 

Though the shivers were slowly starting to leave her body and she was beginning to feel her toes again, Guindaryn remained ill at ease. These were, after all, inanimate objects that had obviously been brought to life by some sort of bizarre spell, and she could only assume that the one who had cast it was the master of the castle Josephine had referred to. Who is this master? she wondered. And why have they taken to secluding themselves in a strange castle with no one but imaginary friends to keep them company? Suddenly, a large brown foot cushion came bounding into the room on four wooden legs, interrupting her thoughts and causing her to stare in amazement as it nosed its way under her ankles and propped them up at a comfortable angle. Meanwhile, the ambassador, who entered immediately thereafter, was instructing several rolling trays that moved with no physical hand to guide them. There were teapots and teacups, which Guin had only seen during her visits to Wycome’s market, but none were so elegantly crafted as these. Silver platters there were also, delicately arranged with bite-sized bits of bread and cheese. 

“Please, help yourselves!” Josephine encouraged with a hopeful smile. “A second course is being prepared as we speak. In the meantime, is there anything else you require? Blankets, or—?” 

“This is far too generous of you, ambassador,” Guin managed as loaded trays rolled up on either side of her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.” 

“It is our honor to serve you, Lady Lavellan,” Josephine assured her, bowing. “Please, eat, and enjoy! If I can be of any further assistance, do not hesitate to—” 

_Bang!_

The door crashed open. Guindaryn dropped her tea. The fire was snuffed out, and the room was plunged into total darkness. Josephine yelped, and Varric shrank back, his lights extinguished. The trays rattled, the plates clattering and the pots and cups quaking with terror. 

Instinctively, Guin reached for her staff—only to discover that it was not there. She sat completely rigid, hot tea seeping into the rug beneath her feet. Something snarled behind her, and she felt a powerful presence enter the room. A chill ran down her spine. 

“You brought _strangers_ into this castle?” 

The deep, rumbling voice shook the silent room, and no one dared speak—save Varric. 

“They were lost and looking for shelter. Look at them! They mean us no harm.” 

A ferocious growl sounded over her right shoulder. “That decision is _mine_ to make—not yours!” 

“Master, if-if I may?” Josephine stammered. “Might I point out that—?” 

“ _Silence!_ ” he thundered, causing Guindaryn to involuntarily shudder. 

A massive, clawed hand suddenly seized her by the back of her tunic and snatched her from the chair. She was flung to the floor, pain shooting from her wrists to her elbows. 

“Don’t touch her!” a voice cried. 

Guin shifted onto her side just in time to see a bright flash in the darkness. It was over in an instant. Nehn’s brave eyes were wide open, fists still clenched at his sides—his entire body turned to stone. 

“No!” she wailed, scrambling to her feet and flying to him. She dropped to her knees, cradling his frozen face with trembling fingers as tears sprang to her eyes. “Nehn? Nehn!” No answer. Her throat constricted so tightly that it burned, a familiar rage igniting inside her. Whirling to face this new enemy, Guindaryn stood tall and defiant—no longer afraid. Her scorching gaze met six red eyes, three on each side of a large black head that towered above her. Startled, she swallowed but refused to back down. 

“You monster! Bring him back! Bring him back right now!” When her demands were met with silence, her fury rapidly dissolved into desperation, and she was scarcely able to speak. “P-please. I’ll-I’ll do anything!” 

“What will you do?” 

The question caught her by surprise, his voice low and unexpectedly calm. Guin’s mind was racing, her heart pounding. She had nothing to offer, nothing to give. Nothing but herself. 

Taking a deep breath, she drew herself up and fought to steady her voice. “Take me instead. Kill _me_ , if that is what your black heart desires. Just—just promise me that you will not harm the boy.” 

There was an audible gasp somewhere behind her, and immediately thereafter, the moon slipped out from behind the clouds. Spilling through the twin windows behind Josephine’s desk, its pale, silver light revealed a monstrous beast standing before her—a _werewolf_. Though his back and broad shoulders were stooped, he was far taller than she, with long muscular arms that hung below his bent knees. From head to tail, his body was coated in thick black fur, leaving only the gray skin of his hands and feet somewhat visible. 

His bared teeth gleamed in the ivory light, and Guindaryn was rendered utterly speechless. She knew him. She had seen him before. He was the ghost that haunted. The hunter who hounded. The bringer of her nightmares. 

There was a sudden flicker in the wolf’s vermillion eyes when the unearthly light fell upon Guin’s slight frame, and he blinked. _Recognition._ As quickly as it had come, however, the moment passed, and the creature’s expression hardened once again. 

“As you wish,” he growled. 

The sound of splitting stone caused her to turn, and she saw the fragments of rock falling from Nehn’s eyes, then his face, then all the rest of him. She breathed a weary sigh of relief, feeling the suffocating weight finally lift from her chest. 

“Do not go to him,” the beast ordered sternly, halting her in midstep. “He is no longer your concern.” 

Guindaryn’s already weak smile vanished in an instant. Reminded of the gravity of what she had just done, she felt the weight of the world descend upon her shoulders. Tears flooded her vision, and she pressed her lips tightly together, but they continued to tremble. 

“Guin, no!” the boy rasped as air returned to his lungs. “You can’t do this! I won’t—” 

“The choice has been made,” their captor barked. “It’s time for you to leave.” 

Storming forward, he grabbed Nehn roughly by the collar and dragged him from the room, the boy kicking and fighting against him every step of the way. 

“Don’t hurt him!” she cried. “You promised!” 

The door slammed. She could hear Nehn’s desperate pleas for her release growing increasingly distant, until they at last faded into silence. A choked sob escaped her throat, and Guindaryn collapsed onto her knees, pressing her hand over her mouth as she shook uncontrollably. She was in the wolf’s jaws. And what would become of her now, she did not know.


End file.
